6. Sienna
six
Sienna
“Good job, girls! I’m so proud of you all…” I trail off, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears.
My mind is on a continuous loop of the past few days and where my list could’ve gone in that time. Even though the blond equivalent to Hades announced that he was taking over and becoming my student, I still had other students to take care of first, which is why I’m teaching the Minis today.
The world doesn’t revolve around Jace Heart, and neither do I.
Taking a sip from my water bottle, my eyes remain locked on the ten girls before me, all participating in an end of practice stretch.
When I got to the academy today, Dupri told me to head to my original studio, Studio C, and I found all of my original students sitting around chatting with one another.
It felt good to see and be around my girls, even if it’s only been about a week since the recital.
I miss teaching them and their little pouts when they don’t understand a piece of choreography.
As the girls pack up with their moms, I begin to do the same.
My body is exhausted and my limbs feel like they’re on the verge of snapping. This morning, I had another early morning Ballet course as well as a three hour lecture on the history of modern art.
History isn’t my strong suit, so sitting in that lecture on a hard wooden chair for most of my school day took a toll on my body.
Rolling my shoulders out and stretching my neck, I let out a relieved sigh.
Todays over…luckily, there wasn’t any crap with parents or —
“Daddy!” a familiar voice squeals. My body shutters as the sound of little feet pattering against the ground echoes in the emptying room.
Delilah’s father is a tall, handsome man, and the most annoying parent that I’ve met thus far—and that’s saying a lot considering I’ve only met him as her father once…when I cursed him out at the recital.
Before Hades came and took over my job, I taught at the studio for two and a half months. In that time, I’d only met Derek twice: once when I babysat Delilah and thought he was her brother…and on the night of the recital when he missed her performance, showing up late.
Besides those two instances, I’ve only ever met Delilah’s abuela, Lidia, a short, older Latina woman who loves hugs. Lidia has picked up and dropped off Delilah from every single practice. So when I realized that it was him who neglected his child, I saw red.
A fiery inferno burned inside me and like a phoenix, the old “sweet” Sienna died. It was the first time I’d ever cursed at someone, and boy did it feel good. Since then, from what the other instructors have told me, Lidia has remained the sole person to show up for Delilah’s practices.
My mind thrums with unbridled rage as our eyes lock. Any human who is negligent towards their kid isn’t a parent in my eyes.
As I walk past the two I stop, expecting Derek to ask about his daughter’s progress like the rest of the parents, but he doesn’t.
He scowls at me, deep, brown eyes burning bright with rage. I’m a rather tall woman, but the man is a giant. And from what I heard from other young instructors, he plays hockey, too.
Figures. I bet he and Jace are friends. Two men who act like Neanderthals. One who scowls and refuses to speak, and the other who bangs on his chest and speaks too much .
Could Jace be friends with a person who isn’t present in their child's life?
He wouldn’t be, right?
My mind is infiltrated with thoughts of the blond, pulling me into the past almost instantly. The memory of us ten years ago flashes before my eyes, sucking me in.
Jace’s small, lanky arms are cold as they pull me into his side. His childish body is smaller than mine, but he still manages to hold me as if he were huge like his brothers, Asa and Jackson.
“I’m sorry your mommy and daddy didn’t come again, angel,” he pouts, his sage eyes dim as he looks down at me. Jace’s cheeks are rosy as he blows a frustrated breath, the scent of grape soda on his tongue.
My heart falls at the reminder of my parents.
Could he tell that I’m upset?
I thought that I hid it well…
“I saw you crying in the room…” he says, his voice soft as he tries to tug my small body deeper into him, like a Doe trying to protect their Joey.
“I—”
“It’s okay, angel. I won’t tell anyone, it can be our little secret. Pinky promise!" The young ten-year-old boy’s voice is bright as he holds out his pinky to me, promising to keep my secret.
“Promise?” The softness of my voice is almost inaudible to my ears, but Jace hears me perfectly.
“Always, I won’t ever abandon you. I’ll go to all of your shows and be the loudest in the room!” he exclaims energetically, his pinky looping with mine as he smiles at me. The sun shines beneath Jace’s irises and he reminds me of that one Greek guy that my aunt Melody likes to talk about so much.
Heracue…
Herca?
Hercules!
He’s like Hercules. He’s strong, nice, and looks out for me. Jace Heart is like my very own Hercules!
I giggle at the thought of him being my hero .
“You can’t go to all of my shows, silly! I live in California…” I frown, but Jace laughs off my words.
“My dad has a plane! I’ll just ask him and we’ll go together, we can even get…cookies… together,” he says, whispering the word “cookies”.
I giggle at his silliness, and just like that, my once somber mood is replaced with something light and airy like the sun.
He’s my sunshine.
Heaving a deep sigh, I turn on my heels and leave.
Not today, Satan. You may have taken me out of my character a few days ago, but I refuse to give this ogre the satisfaction of a reaction from me.
Nope.
Not happening.
By the time I make it back home to the apartment, I’m annoyed, hungry, and still thinking about my list. I had it before I went to class a few days ago…
The pinging of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts as my phone vibrates against my butt pocket. Looking down, I furrow my brows as I read the text from Aric.
Aric
We still on for Sunday?
My heart drops at the thought of dealing with more men this week. I need a break from their species. I don’t think it’s good to have to socialize with multiple men in less than a week. It messes with the brain.
I feel dumber just from a few hours thinking about Jace, let alone being around him .
I knew that I’d started losing brain cells when my first thought after being asked on a date was, “Would Jace care if I went?” rather than, “What kind of perfume should I wear?”
I’m losing my mysterious girl vibe here!
“Girl, you’re letting the good air out the house! You’re either in or you’re out,” Georgia jokingly scolds me, standing in front of me with her blonde locks in rollers, wearing a baby blue bath robe and a green face mask.
“Who’s grandma are you?” I ask, cracking a smile as she rolls her eyes.
“Obviously someone has to be an authority figure around these parts…Cleo’s been acting suspicious, and I haven’t seen you in three days!” she groans dramatically, dragging herself to the kitchen. In an instant, she’s back in front of me, holding a strawberry cupcake.
My smile widens as she struggles to eat the cupcake because of the mask, and I take a step back when she gets a little closer with the cupcake.
Georgia’s the oldest of the three of us, with her being twenty-one while Cleo and I are both twenty. Georgia graduated with us because she was held back in kindergarten due to her dyslexia, which from what I heard, is how she, Jace, and Cleo became friends the next year.
Since I spent my summers and some winter breaks in Summerfield, I met Georgia. She became an instant big sister to me, always looking after me and trying to get me out of my shell.
“Missed me?” I tease, grinning from ear to ear as she hands me a paper towel with four fresh baked chocolate chip cookies on it.
My favorites.
We’re a household of snackers. If you ever come over, expect to find donuts, cookies, and cupcakes at any time of the day.
“You already know I have! I haven’t seen you or your Type-A cousin in years, and now you two are here and we haven’t had a single girls night…” the blonde groans and pouts while kicking her legs out like one of my toddler dancers.
“A guy asked me out,” I cringe, frowning slightly. Aric’s not a bad guy, but what if he isn’t the right guy? I get uncomfortable just from the thought of going out with him…what’s to say he’s not a weird serial killer ?
Or.
A guy with a foot fetish.
My body shivers uncontrollably from the thought. Feet creep me out so much, and then there’s people that willingly put other people’s feet in their mouth.
Bleh.
Can you hear me throwing up in my mouth?
Georgia’s arm shoots out across my chest like a mom who’s just slammed on the breaks, and my neck snaps to the side from the force.
“Did you just say someone asked you out?!” she exclaims, hopping off the couch, her jaw agape.
My cheeks warm from her laser focused green eyes.
“Someone did what?! Oh my gosh, Si Si, we have to help you get ready!” Cleo’s melodic voice is as loud as all outdoors as the pink clad woman rushes out of her bedroom into our shared living room.
“It’s not a big deal…” I shrug, looking away from them to the TV, but the blonde-brunette duo has other plans. The girls close in, standing in front of me like Thing 1 and Thing 2 with their hands on their hips and creepy smiles on their faces.
I sink into my seat on the couch as Thing 2—Cleo—jumps on me.
“Of course it’s a big deal, you never go out!” she exclaims, settling herself beside me as Georgia purses her lips.
I roll my eyes, smiling, "I'm sorry, ma'am. Is that the pot calling the kettle black?!"
“You go to one party, have a man eat you out, and now suddenly you’re the party expert?” Gerogia adds.
“I’ve had boyfriends, G. When was the last time you’ve seen this stickler talk to a man?” Cleo asks, her tone clearly light and playful as she turns on the TV.
Georgia and I’s eyes lock momentarily, communicating with one another.
She knows the last man I talked to. Hell, she walked in on us devouring one another's mouths.
Her eyes tell me I won’t say anything if you don’t.
And I won't. Not now, not ever. That kiss was like something out of a fairytale, but like all stories, they must come to an end. And our page turned on that night.
“Oh, shut up! Si Si’s just a little inexperienced is all…I bet she’ll find the person of her dreams while she’s here. That guy could be her soulmate.” Georgia shrugs and my nose scrunches.
Aric is not my soulmate… that I know for sure. Jace, too, for that matter.
I think my soulmate might just be an artsy girl who paints little portraits of me when I sleep and feeds me green grapes because she knows I hate the red ones. We’d make dinners together, she’d go to my shows, and we’d ride off into the sunset on her bike because, of course, I’d date a biker girl.
Can you tell that I read too many books?
“What was his name again?” Georgia asks, pulling my attention back to the topic.
“Aric Rogers, I think…he’s an art major.”
At this, Georgia’s brow raises. “Rogers? He’s…a guy. Just be careful, he was sweet in our Textiles class, but he does tend to date a lot.”
“So I should go on the date?” I ask, chewing the inside of my cheek.
“You’re still contemplating it?! Girl, go get your man!” Cleo laughs loudly, but I can tell there’s something off with her. She isn’t her usual, careful self right now. Matter of fact, she’s been a little off since she came back from New York.
My smile is small as I look at my cousin.
Just what happened to her while she was gone? And why does the idea of saying yes to this date freak me out?
“Cheers to the motherfucking weekend!” Georgia shouts as she lifts her cocktail glass in the air, her sour apple margarita sloshing in the cup.
“Bitch, it’s Thursday!” Denver, one of Cleo’s new friends, jokes as Georgia giggles, throwing back her drink.
The laugh that leaves my mouth rips from the bottom of my stomach as Georgia completely misses her mouth, the drink going down her shirt while Denver’s does the same.
When Cleo first introduced the beautiful stranger, my first thought was, fuck, why is her friend a literal goddess? Followed by my second thought of, is she going to fit into our little group?
We can be a bit intense considering we’re all practically family, so it could be intimidating to others.
My thoughts of unease were put to rest immediately when Denver began to joke about wanting a margarita as soon as she stepped over our threshold.
Her outspoken thoughts soon turned into a friendly competition on who could whip up the best cocktail, with all of us making our own signature drink for the entire group.
With Cleo making her signature cosmopolitan, Denver whipping up a raspberry margarita, Georgia dazzling us with her sour apple margarita, and me fixing up my go to Caribbean storm…it’s safe to say we’re shitfaced.
“Wait, wait, wait! We need more shots!” I hear Denver cry out as she chases Georgia into the kitchen from their spot on the balcony as Cleo starts singing one of our favorite princess theme songs.
Life is good. Liquor thrums through my veins and I’m surrounded by good energy.
This was the whole purpose of my list. I made it to let go and relax, but something won’t let me.
I don’t know if it's because I can’t find the list or because images of sage green eyes and a daring smile clouds my thoughts.